Save You Tonight
by serenelystrange
Summary: High School AU. Oh yes, I finally gave in to the cliche. I regret nothing! I'd love if you gave it a shot. Our heroes are human, and teenagers, but trouble, in the shape of one Loki's Laufeyson's return, and their own personal demons, still has a way of finding them...Complete! WARNING: school violence.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - I have no freaking clue what I'm doing. You've been warned, .

.

.

"Mr. Stark!"

Tony turns his attention back to Ms. Vincilli slowly and gives her a cocky grin.

"Yes, dear?"

The teacher doesn't rise to the bait, and sighs instead, rubbing her temples to ward off the impending 'Stark Headache.'

"Do you know the solution to the equation?" She asks, pointing to the calculus problem written out on the white board.

"I do," Tony says, nodding solemnly.

A long moment of silence passes while Ms. Vincilli stares at him expectantly.

"Well?" she says, finally.

"Well?" Tony repeats, giving her his most innocent look.

"Do you care to share the solution?" she asks, barely restraining reaching for her yardstick to smack the smug smile off Tony's face.

"Not particularly," Tony replies, waving his hand in an over-exaggerated gesture of boredom.

Behind him, his best friend Bruce groans and drops his head to his desk with a dull thud.

"Oh just go…" Ms. Vincilli begins, before catching herself and taking a deep breath, "just get out. Go see Principal Fury. And report back here at 2:30 for detention."

"Gladly," Tony says, standing and slinging his unopened backpack over one shoulder. "Until then, my darling!"

He glides out, shutting the door behind him with a loud click. Bruce warily makes eye contact with the teacher, mouthing an apology. She gives him a slight nod before calling him up to the board to solve the equation. Bruce moves with relief, glad to do anything to break the tension of the room after Tony's dramatic exit.

.

Bruce escapes the classroom the second the final bell rings, immediately heading for the metal shop, knowing full well that Tony didn't report to Fury's office as instructed. He's so lost in his thoughts for a moment that he doesn't register the wall of muscle coming towards him until he's nearly knocked on his back.

He flails, preparing for the impact, but it doesn't come. He looks up and laughs as he sees who he's run into. It's Steve Rogers and Thor Odinson, football captain and quarterback, respectively. And more importantly, two of the only jocks in the school who have never given him a hard time.

"Sorry, guys," he says as he straightens up, "wasn't paying attention."

"Don't worry about it," Steve says, smiling easily.

"There is no harm done, Banner," Thor agrees, in a voice that is entirely too booming for a high school hallway.

"See you later," Bruce says as he begins to walk away.

"Fare thee well!" Thor calls out, grabbing Steve by the arm. "Come along, Captain. Rehearsal awaits!"

Bruce chuckles to himself as he walks. He's never quite gotten over the novelty of the two biggest jocks in the school also being in charge of the drama club.

.

He finds Tony bent over one of the tables, blowtorching something with glee that he can see even through the protective face-mask. Their friend Clint is standing behind him, leaning against another table, watching the sparks through dark goggles.

Bruce nods to Clint, keeping quiet so he doesn't startle Tony while he's holding the blowtorch. Clint nods back, shifting over so that there's room against the table for Bruce to lean next to him. Bruce drops his backpack to the table before doing just that, accepting the pair of goggles that Clint produces.

It's several minutes before Tony finally turns off the fire and puts the blowtorch back in its safety holder.

"What are you making?" Bruce asks, peering at the cooling bits of metal with interest.

Tony turns around, surprised.

"When did you get here?" he asks, looking genuinely bewildered.

Bruce just laughs.

"A few minutes ago. By the way, you're late for detention. Ms. Vincilli is gonna kill you."

"She'll wait," Tony says, unconcerned. "What do you think, Barton?"

Clint moves forward, looking as closely as he can without touching the hot metal.

"Dude, she's gonna love them. Fuckin' awesome."

Bruce finally gets a good look at the project and he can't help but look shocked.

"Are those handcuffs?" he asks.

"Custom, engraved, damn near unbreakable, handcuffs," Tony correct him.

"You made Clint custom handcuffs…" Bruce trails off, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"They're an anniversary gift for Tasha," Clint says, proudly.

"I shouldn't have asked," Bruce says, shaking his head.

"You need to get laid," Clint says, pushing off the table. "They'll be ready tomorrow?" he asks, Tony, who nods.

"Shit, it's almost three?" Tony says, suddenly, "Vincilli really will have my balls if I don't show up. Later, boys!"

He's gone so quickly that Bruce swears he actually saw the other boy blur.

"He's going to get expelled if he keeps getting detention," Bruce says as he and Clint head for the door.

To his surprise, Clint bursts out laughing, turning an impressive shade of pink as he does so.

"What?" he asks, waiting for Clint to start breathing again.

"Oh my god, you really don't know, do you?" Clint says, looking at him with incredulity.

Bruce just stares back.

"Ok," Clint says, slowly, "Ms. Vincilli is pretty hot, right? And pretty young?"

"Late twenties, I think," Bruce agrees, "And yeah, she's pretty. You think Tony is getting detention on purpose? Like he's got a crush on her or something?"

"Well, you're closer," Clint says, sounding impossibly amused. "You know, for someone with a genius I.Q., you're awfully dense sometimes. Ms. V. is hot, Tony is a whore, and charismatic as all hell. The bastard. Please, Banner, put two and two together."

It hits Bruce all at once, and he stops in his tracks, looking over at Clint with wide eyes.

"He's sleeping with Ms. Vincilli?"

"There we go!" Clint says, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Banner. He's your best friend. Figured you'd know already."

"Guess he didn't want me judging him. Or ratting him out." Bruce says, but he looks overwhelmingly sad for a split-second.

"We all know you wouldn't do that," Clint says. "Come on, you need a ride home?"

"Yeah, thanks," Bruce says, shaking off his mood as best he can.

Bruce follows Clint out, thoughts whirring in his head.

.

.

Bruce's mom is home when he gets there, perched precariously on the third level of a six level bookshelf in the living room, reaching up to dust the top of the shelf off.

He shakes his head fondly at her, tossing his backpack to the couch as he comes into the room.

"You really should use a stool or something," he says, mildly, knowing that she'll go right on doing things however she pleases.

"Hey, baby," she greets as she climbs down, "how was school?"

"Surprising," Bruce says, the honest answer coming out before he can stop it.

"Sounds juicy," his mom says, coming to sit on the floor across from him, cross-legged. "Spill!"

"Mom, no, come on," Bruce groans, "We're not supposed to be gossip buddies. I'm your kid, you're supposed to think I'm a no-good punk who never listens."

"And you're supposed to hate me," she replies, grinning up at him. "I guess we both fail at this. Now, come on, my day was boring, tell me what's going on."

Bruce hedges, knowing he _shouldn't _say anything, but it's bursting inside his chest with the effort of keeping it in.

"One of the teachers is sleeping with one of the students," he says, settling on the vaguest possible explanation.

"Oh…" his mother says slowly, "yeah, you probably shouldn't have told me that. Damn it."

"Please don't tell anyone," Bruce begs, fixing his soft brown gaze onto his mother's matching one.

"Just please tell me that this girl is 18," she says, groaning.

"He is," Bruce says, absently.

And then it clicks, realization spreading across her face.

"Oh, babe, it's Tony, isn't it?"

Bruce just shrugs, not confirming or denying.

"I wish I could say I was surprised," she says, getting up and relocating on the couch next to him, before wrapping an arm around his shoulders and resting her head on his shoulder.

"You need to talk to that boy," she says, "Tell him how you feel."

That startles Bruce, and he jerks away before staring at her in surprise.

"What do you mean? I don't feel any…I'm not… it's not…"

"Baby, I love you, but you're a horrible liar. There's no need to lie about this, I promise."

Bruce looks up from his lap, searching his mother's face for any hint of disgust or anger. He finds only the love and slight amusement that's always present.

"You wouldn't hate me if I was… if I liked guys, too?" he asks, forcing the words out around his constricting throat.

She smiles at him, almost sadly, before ruffling the mop of curls on his head.

"It wouldn't change a damn thing," she says, flicking his ear before settling her hands back on her lap.

Bruce leans back against the couch, closing his eyes, relieved but still conflicted.

His mother, using what he can only assume are special mom psychic powers, leans back next to him and bumps her shoulder into his.

"He won't hate you, either," she says. "Trust me."

"I do," Bruce says, letting himself take childhood comfort in his mother petting his hair as they rest in comfortable silence.

.

.

Bruce's phone wakes him up far too early for a Saturday morning, even if it is already 10AM. He blinks at the name on the screen in confusion for a moment before answering it.

"Pepper?" he asks, not even sure when they'd exchanged numbers.

"You need to come get him," she says, without preamble.

He doesn't need to ask who she means.

"He's your boyfriend," he says, instead, only a little petulantly.

"Bruce, we broke up months ago. Not that he remembered that last night when he showed up at 3AM, high as a kite and missing his shoes."

"Jesus," Bruce says, sitting up and feeling for his glasses. "Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine," she says, and he's glad to hear that she sounds relieved. At least she still cares. Which is more than Bruce can say for most of Tony's exes. "But my parents are going to be home in less than an hour, and I might be 18, but they will still murder me if they find him lying on my floor."

"Alright. Let me see if I can borrow my mom's car. I'll be there soon. Text me your address."

He hangs up before she can reply, sleepiness short-circuiting manners for the moment.

A few minutes later, he's on the road, two travel mugs of coffee in the console.

.

Luckily, Tony's conscious by the time he gets there, and he doesn't struggle when Bruce helps him to the car. He's silent, but reaches for one of the coffee mugs automatically, chugging it with alarming speed.

"You want to talk about it?" Bruce asks, once they've been on the road for a few minutes.

Tony shakes his head and turns to look out the window, Bruce's dark sunglasses over his eyes.

Bruce can't help it, he reaches out and brushes his thumb across Tony's cheek, noting the new bruise there.

"You can't keep doing this," he says, so softly that he wonders if it was even aloud.

The silence stretches so long that he's almost convinced it was in his head, but Tony finally speaks up, his voice raw and barely audible.

"I know."

.

Tony hides at Bruce's house all weekend, letting Bruce and his mother order him around. He helps Bruce clean the yard, and in a surprising gesture, helps Bruce's mom make dinner each night.

Bruce watches him then, smiling as Tony waits for instruction, bright yellow apron tied over his expensive clothes. It occurs to Bruce that he's never really seen Tony interact with a woman without excessive flirting and inappropriateness before now. But he's not like that with Bruce's mother. He towers over her five foot two frame, and outweighs her by at least fifty pounds, but he looks at her like she's some kind of hero. Then again, Bruce supposes, she kind of is. She saved them, after all, even if he tries not to think about that anymore.

"Quit staring and set the table," his mom instructs, and Bruce shakes out of his thoughts, rolling his eyes as he does what he's told.

Monday comes all too soon.

.

"Holy shit," Tony says as they walk into the cafeteria at lunchtime.

"Wha…" Bruce starts before realizing what Tony is staring at, "Is that Thor's little brother?"

"Loki," Tony confirms, "And wow, he's not so little anymore."

"I think they're actually the same age," Bruce notes, studying the tall teenager, "he's adopted. But I thought he got sent off to boarding school years ago."

"Guess it didn't take," Tony says, finally pulling his gaze away. "Come on, Clint and Nat are waiting for us."

Bruce follows him, glancing back to see Thor suddenly next to Loki, one arm slung companionable around his neck, wide grin on his face. Loki looks less than pleased. For a brief second, he locks eyes with Bruce, and a chill runs down his spine.

He's not sure why, but he knows Loki's return is going to cause all kinds of trouble.

.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

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"Hey, Steve, got a minute?"

Steve closes his locker and turns to look at Natasha, who is standing there with a casual smile on her face.

"What's up?"

"Walk with me," Natasha says, spinning on her heels, knowing he'll match her pace with ease.

When they've made a comfortable distance away from the other students, she speaks again.

"So, Thor's brother has been spending a lot of time with you guys, lately, yeah?"

Steve shrugs. "Yeah, I guess," he says. "He doesn't really have any other friends yet. It must be hard coming back after being away for so many years."

"Right," Natasha says, "He doesn't really look like the jock type, though. What do you all talk about?"

"Just…stuff, I don't know," Steve says, laughing. "I think he's gonna try out for the end-of-year play. Thor convinced Mr. Coulson we should put on Hamlet."

"Well," Natasha says, "That's not creepy and depressing at all."

"The other favorite was Les Miz," Steve offers, "But nobody wanted to hear Thor sing. Again."

"Oh God, I remember the Sound of Music disaster!" Natasha says, cracking up a little.

"Shakespearean tragedy is a definitely a better option," Steve agrees.

They make their way across the parking lot as they talk.

"Why all the questions about Loki, anyway?" Steve asks, "You got a crush on him or something?"

"Hey!" Natasha says, smacking him on the arm. "You know I'm with Clint. I'm just curious, is all. He just looks like he's up to something all the time."

Steve considers it for a moment as they reach his car. He leans back against it and crosses his arms in thought before finally replying.

"I think that might just be his face," he says, cracking a smile against the stoic expression he was trying to maintain.

Natasha laughs, always surprised when Steve gets a little snarky.

"Yeah, maybe," she says, "but I'm definitely keeping an eye on him. You should, too."

"I will," Steve promises. "It's only a few months until Graduation, anyway. How much harm can he do?"

Natasha groans.

"Have you never watched a movie in your entire life? You never say stuff like that! It's asking for trouble."

"Sorry!" Steve says, chuckling at her superstition. "I'd knock on wood or something… but I don't have any wood on me at the moment."

The moment he says it, the double entendre hits him and he flushes red immediately, causing Natasha to cackle with glee.

"Oh, trouble will be worth it just for how red you are right now," she says. She wipes tears from her cheeks and catches her breath before she can look at Steve again.

Steve just sighs.

"Do you need a ride?" he asks, glaring when Natasha's laughing starts up again.

She shakes her head no, waving her hand in front of her face in an attempt to get more oxygen.

"Th-thank you," she manages, stepping back so Steve can get in the car and pull away.

Steve just gives her another annoyed yet amused look before doing just that.

.

"What'd I miss?"

Clint finds himself with a chest-full of giggling Natasha a moment later, and he just wraps his arms around her waist and accepts the random cuddles.

.

.

"Did you finish the Chemistry homework?"

Bruce looks up from the book he's reading at his desk, to see Tony standing in his bedroom doorway.

"Your mom let me in," Tony says, shrugging.

"I finished it," Bruce confirms, "Did you?"

"Hah," Tony says, as if it's an unbearably dumb question.

He cocks one hip against the doorframe, leaning against it in what most people would assume is a casual position.

Most people aren't best friends with Tony Stark, though, and Bruce is immediately suspicious. But he lets it go for the moment.

"Did you even start the Chem homework? Or any of your homework?"

"Have we never met?" Tony asks, grinning.

"Then why did you ask?" Bruce says, rolling his eyes.

"Because," Tony replies, "I wanted to make sure you were free to come on an adventure with me."

"No," Bruce says, resolutely.

"Oh, come on, Banner! It'll be fun!"

Bruce snorts.

"Your last definition of 'fun' involved more feathers than I previously thought existed, and glitter that I couldn't get out of my skin for a week!"

"And?" Tony asks, grin widening.

"And that's not my idea of fun," Bruce says.

"You gotta admit, I rocked those heels," Tony says, proudly.

Bruce laughs, because it's true.

"What's your idea of fun this time?" he asks.

"Not much," Tony says, too casually. "Just thought we'd test out the new paintball gun I just finished. It's attracted to body heat, it's _awesome._ And I know just the assholes whose cars could use a little redecorating."

Bruce sighs.

"Are these the same assholes who fucked up your ribs?" he asks, feeling slightly satisfied when Tony looks surprised.

Tony walks into the room fully and closes the door behind him before making his way over to Bruce and lifting his shirt to his underarms, exposing the black and purple mess of bruises covering the right side of his chest.

"Jesus, Tony," Bruce says, stopping himself from touching by a fraction of an inch.

"So, you wanna come?" Tony asks, dropping his shirt back down and imploring Bruce with his best puppy-eyes.

And for a moment, Bruce really _really _does. He wants to find the assholes who did this to Tony and make them bleed. The feeling courses through him like fire and for just a second, he strongly considers it. The only problem is, he knows Tony.

"What did you do?" he asks, pointing for Tony to sit on the bed before he hurts himself further.

Tony pouts, knowing he's caught, and sags to the bed slowly.

"I might have been messing around with Hammer's girlfriend. But hey, she wasn't complaining!"

He grins at that, no doubt remember just how much she hadn't been complaining.

"Oh, Tony, in public?"

"Maybe. I didn't know Hammer even had friends. Never mind friends that big. Assholes."

"Dude," Bruce says, shaking his head. "You're my best friend, and I love you, but you need to start thinking with your _brain_ once in a while. You're gonna get yourself killed."

Tony just shrugs and looks away, saying nothing.

Which, of course, worries Bruce more than any bullshit rambling could.

"Hey," he says, getting up and relocating to sit down next to Tony. "You're not allowed to check out anytime soon, alright? Who else would put up with me?"

He tries for light and joking, but it comes out all too serious. It does, however, get Tony's attention. He turns to look at Bruce, and Bruce gets the feeling like Tony's looking at him for the first time.

It's wholly unnerving.

"Who wouldn't like you?" Tony asks. "You're the nicest fucking guy in the universe. Well, ok, maybe Rogers is nicer, but I'm pretty sure his parents swapped him for a robot ages ago."

Bruce laughs, only a little brokenly.

"No dying," he says, simply. "I'd miss you too much. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah," Tony says, knocking his knee into Bruce's. "Can't off myself until after graduation, anyway. Once I get the rest of my inheritance, I'm out of here. One way or another."

"No dying," Bruce repeats, sticking to short, pointed sentences.

"Fine," Tony says. "But there's no way you're stopping me from losing a week or two in a haze of strippers and booze."

"I'll come with you," Bruce says, laughing at the idea.

"It's a plan," Tony says, yawning suddenly.

"Take a nap," Bruce says, pushing Tony back gently. "I'll wake you up for dinner. I think mom's making stuffed burgers tonight."

"Mmm, burgers," Tony says, already falling asleep.

Bruce tosses a throw blanket over him and fully intends to get up and go talk to his mother, but suddenly a wave of sleepiness hits him and his pillow looks so very comfortable. He shrugs to himself, he and Tony have shared a bed hundreds of times. He lies down on his back, asleep before he can even feel awkward about it all.

.

.

"I don't know, I'm not sold on it."

"Come on, Mr. Coulson!" Erin, a tiny redhead with a pixie cut, says. "He's really good!"

"Almost scary-good," Ashley, a dark-skinned girl with bright blue eyes and long braids, adds.

"My brother gave a most excellent performance," Thor says, crossing his gigantic arms across his chest and staring down Coulson.

"I just think he lacks…conviction," Coulson says, casting a skeptical glance to the group of audition-ees across the room.

"Sir, I think you're outvoted," Sam, a scrawny but handsome boy, says.

"I agree with Mr. Coulson."

"Thank you, Maria," Coulson says, giving her an almost smile. "But it seems we're still outvoted."

Thor whoops in delight, exchanging a fist bump with Ashley.

"Very well," Coulson says, "Go ahead and tell Loki he's our Hamlet."

.

.

It's a few weeks later when it dawns on Bruce that Tony hasn't had detention in a while. In fact, he's hardly been kicked out of any of his classes recently. He still isn't doing any of his homework, but they both know he'll ace the tests anyway. He spends a lot of time at Bruce's house, hanging out while Bruce studies, or helping Bruce's mother with chores and handiwork. In a especially sentimental moment, Tony presented her with a remote controlled, encased, hydraulic stool that she could wheel around to reach whatever she wanted, regardless of the height. She'd hugged him tightly and ruffled his hair, all while he insisted it was nothing. Bruce didn't miss his leaning into the friendly contact, though.

Bruce supposes that his mother has more than enough love for both of them, so he doesn't mind at all. Plus, he knows all Tony has to go home to is a mansion full of hired help and bad memories. His parents had died less than two years ago, but he knows Tony's home life hadn't been great to begin with.

He could relate.

.

"So, what happened with Ms. V?" he asks Tony one afternoon.

They're sitting on his bed, Bruce going over his final History presentation notes, Tony scribbling indecipherable notes in a mechanic notebook.

Tony has the decency to blush, and he closes the notebook and puts it on the nightstand before looking back at Bruce.

"You knew about that?

Bruce smirks a bit at that, before putting his notes on the other nightstand and turning back to Tony.

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

Tony considers the question for a stretch, no doubt going over every possible thing he could say, deciding which lie would seem the most believable. Bruce just inches closer and bumps his shoulder into Tony's, waiting.

"I didn't want you to be disappointed in me," Tony says, finally. And damn it if Bruce doesn't know he's telling the truth.

"I wouldn't," Bruce says, "I mean, I'm not. I just don't want you getting hurt."

Tony smiles at that, brief but brilliant, and Bruce's voice catches in his throat before he can say anything else.

"She's really smart, you know?" Tony says, leaning back on his palms.

"Ms. V?"

Tony nods.

"It really was detention at first. She saw through my bullshit pretty quick, but she kept trying to make me talk anyway. I know she was trying to help, but I just got so angry one day. She was being so nice, and I'm just screaming at her, and she's just taking it. She's just letting me yell, and then…"

Bruce waits, giving Tony an encouraging look.

"And then I started crying," Tony says, blushing with embarrassment. "And she hugged me. And it felt good, and she was so warm, and smelled so good, and she didn't stop me when I kissed her, and it just kind of…happened."

"Wow," Bruce says, because what else is there to say.

They're silent for a while, lost in thought, until Tony sits back up and turns to face Bruce.

"I never fucked her," he says, "I just let Barton believe it when he assumed."

"Then what did you do all those times you got detention?" Bruce asks, perplexed.

Tony shrugs.

"Talked, mostly. Sometimes I did my homework. Did you know she has a kid?"

"Yeah?" Bruce says, because no, he did not know that.

"Yeah," Tony nods, "Little girl. She's three. Real cute, big blue eyes. I helped her make a Lego castle one day when she was there after school."

"That's adorable," Bruce says, because damned if it isn't.

"Anyway," Tony says, "A few weeks ago she got an after school job, so she bumped all her detentions onto Mr. Brown, and I sure as hell didn't want to talk to him, so I stopped riling her up during class. Mostly."

"I'm sorry," Bruce says.

Tony shrugs again. "No big deal," he says, "We're almost out of there, anyway. And then you'll be off at college, and I'll be wherever the wind and my considerable fortune takes me."

He grins, but Bruce can't miss the sadness in his eyes.

"You could come with me, you know," he says, unable to stop himself from putting a hand around Tony's wrist. "You know any school will take you, even this late. Your I.Q. is insane, and you have more money than you'll ever be able to use it. You could come with me."

"Fuck college," Tony says, but it's hollow sounding. Bruce knows he feels like it will be just another place where he's the poor little rich boy orphan, another place he won't fit in.

"Then just come, anyway," Bruce says, and he doesn't care if it sounds like he's pleading. He'll drop to his knees and beg if it's necessary. "Just come with me. We can be roommates. You can help me blow shit up in the name of science, and I can help you with whatever it is you decide to do."

"You'd want me there even if I turned half the appliances into self-aware robots that could turn on us at any second?" Tony asks, eyes shining.

Bruce takes a deep breath and looks him square in the eyes.

"I'll always want you," he says, and it's a strange kind of freedom, this confession.

It takes a moment for his words to really register with Tony, but he can pinpoint the exact instant it does. Tony's eyes go impossibly wider and shine even brighter, and before he knows it, he's flat on his back with Tony above him, braced on his arms.

He looks up at Tony and sees the conflicting emotions running through his eyes, even as both their hearts are beating furiously and their bodies are reacting to each other in oh so pleasant ways.

"Please," he says, because it's everything.

Tony's face lights up in a radiant grin before he's leaning down and kissing Bruce, and Bruce doesn't care if it's messy and uncoordinated and just this side of too rough. He never wants it to stop. Tony is apparently on the same page, and only pulls away when oxygen becomes a necessity, but he doesn't stop. He just moves to Bruce's neck, sucking a deep mark there, making him buck up into Tony, desperate for any friction. He chuckles against Bruce's neck and reaches down to undo his jeans without looking, getting it on the first try.

Bruce would take a moment to be impressed if all his blood weren't elsewhere currently.

He whimpers when Tony licks his own palm obscenely before taking hold of Bruce's cock, running his thumb over the slit just hard enough to make him see stars.

"T-tony!" he cries, because he knows he's not going to last long, and Tony still has too many clothes on.

"Shh," Tony whispers into his ear before going back to nipping at his neck, all while working his hand over Bruce's cock like a goddamn porn star.

'I'm in love with a porn star' Bruce thinks, absurdly, unable to keep from laughing at the thought.

"Please," Tony says, "I have much better hair than porn stars."

Bruce's eyes shoot open at that, because oh God, he said that out loud, didn't he?

"Come for me," Tony says, squeezing Bruce just right, as he kisses him again before moving to suck on the other side of his neck.

Bruce manages to grip one hand in Tony's hair before he does come, and everything goes blissfully white for a while.

When he comes to a minute later, Tony's pants are undone, and he has one hand jerking his own cock, clearly desperate to come. Bruce just grins lazily and wraps his hand around Tony's cock, intertwining their fingers, before moving again. He leans forward and kisses the hollow of Tony's throat, scraping across it just a little with his teeth, and it's all over. Tony comes across both their hands and all over his designer jeans, but it doesn't matter. Nothing else matters in this moment but them.

.

"Fuck," Tony says, after they're cleaned up and tucked back in and lying on the bed, pressed into each other with clasped hands.

"We'll work up to that," Bruce says, and then he laughs again, because honestly, this whole thing is more than he can handle, but in the best possible way.

"That better be a promise," Tony says, "And you better be laughing because you're happy. My ego can't handle mocking laughter."

"Cross my heart," Bruce says, turning to curl into Tony and wrap an arm around his chest.

They drift into sleep with smiles on their faces, and for once, tomorrow seems like it will be good.

.

.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

.

They're watching the Hamlet rehearsal, the first one with costumes, at Steve's request, when Loki gets up stage to work out placement with the light guy.

"Holy shit," Bruce says, as he gets a good look at Loki.

Tony looks up at his tone and whistles low as he sees what Bruce is talking about.

Gone are Loki's baggy jeans and oversized hoodie. In their place are snug leather trousers with a tie-up fly, and a loose, white, v-neck tunic, underneath a deep blue vest that fits like a glove. His beat up sneakers are gone, too, replaced with thigh-high leather boots that draw an almost uncomfortable amount of attention to his groin.

To top it all off, Loki's once-long black ponytail is no more. Instead, his hair is cut to the nape of his neck, curling slightly.

In short, it's a damn good look for him.

"Where the hell has he been hiding all of that?" Tony asks, remembering at the last minute to keep his voice low.

"I do not know," Bruce says, still staring.

"Hey," Tony interrupts Bruce's ogling. "It's only been a week. You're not allowed to run off on me yet. Not even for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Suddenly Handsome, there."

Bruce just laughs and turns to shut Tony up with a kiss.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Stark. Plus, he's still got nothing on you."

"Good answer," Tony says. "Oh hey, who's Thor playing?"

Bruce looks up to see Thor appear on stage, in an ornate robe and shiny crown.

"My guess would be King Claudius," he says.

"Hamlet kills him, right?" Tony asks, his Shakespearean knowledge buried under a million other things he cares more about.

"He does," Bruce confirms, watching the brothers on stage. "They're kind of a weird family."

"No shit," Tony says, laughing. "Do you remember when they sent Loki away to begin with?"

Bruce shakes his head. "Wasn't it like seven or eight years ago, though?"

Tony nods.

"They used to live down the road from me, remember? Their family is loaded. Anyway, Thor and Loki used to come by and try to get me to play whatever dumb sport they were into that week. I think it was baseball the time before Loki got sent off."

"Is there a point to this?" Bruce asks, smirking, "I mean, besides the fact that Thor and Loki used to play baseball…"

"I'm getting there, shut up," Tony says, sticking his tongue out at Bruce before continuing.

"The thing about those two is, they always had a…weird relationship. I mean, Thor was the typical overprotective big brother type, even if they are the same age. But Loki… Loki was something else entirely. He used to stare at Thor like he was some kind of God. More than just hero-worship. It was almost like he was in love with him."

Bruce's eyes go wide.

"But…they're brothers."

Tony shrugs. "Not really. They adopted Loki when he was like six. And shipped him off at 10. They didn't really grow up together."

"Still," Bruce says, "It's definitely strange. Is that why they shipped him off to begin with?"

"Probably," Tony says, shrugging. "He was just gone one day. I don't really remember too much about it. Besides Thor crying, anyway."

"I…I can't imagine Thor crying," Bruce says, looking up at the behemoth of a man onstage.

Tony snorts.

"That's because he's like seven feet tall and could probably bench-press us both. Together."

Bruce just nods in agreement.

"Stark, Banner, shut up now, rehearsal is starting."

They look up to see Mr. Coulson, the Drama department director, sitting a few rows ahead of them and fixing them with a warning glare.

"Sorry," Bruce mumbles, while Tony just rolls his eyes and mimics zipping his lips and throwing away the key, before settling down.

.

"So, what did you guys think?" Steve asks them after the show. Clint and Natasha had shown up late, looking rumpled and happy, but at least they had shown up.

"Loki's pretty good, I'll give him that," Natasha says, wrinkling her nose at the admission.

"Erin does a surprisingly good Gertrude for a teeny tiny ginger," Clint adds, holding his hand up to his chest to demonstrate just how small she is.

"Thanks for the visual, Barton," Tony says, "we definitely wouldn't have been able to understand without it."

"Blow me, Stark," Clint says, grinning.

"No way," Tony says, "Besides, that spectacular experience is reserved for Bruce now. You just keep dreaming."

"Tony…" Bruce sighs, flushing with embarrassment.

"Be nice," Natasha warns Clint, "or you don't get any spectacular experiences of your own."

Clint grumbles but goes quiet. He'd argue, but Natasha has a _really _talented tongue.

"The play, people," Steve interrupts, "come on."

"It's really good, man," Bruce offers. "Honestly. It's gonna be a great opening night."

Steve grins.

"One more week," he says, before turning his attention to Tony. "We still meeting up Saturday?"

Tony nods, ignoring Bruce's suddenly curious look.

"Three O'clock," he confirms. "And hey, you're not a bad Horatio. Even if you're a golden-boy with blindingly white teeth."

"Aw, Stark, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Steve replies, completely deadpan.

"Hey, all of you, go home!" Coulson calls from the other side of the room.

.

They part ways in the parking lot, and Bruce barely waits until he and Tony are buckled in to Tony's car before pouncing. Metaphorically, that is.

"Since when do you and Steve hang out?"

"Jealous?" Tony can't help but tease, smirking.

Bruce wants to deny it, but he can feel his skin betraying him with a flush.

"Sorry," he says, taking a deep breath. "It's dumb. I know you wouldn't…I mean, I trust you."

"Gotta say," Tony smirks again, and honestly, it's become a whole _thing_ with him. "I kinda like when you get a little jealous. You need to lose control, sometimes."

Tony's not expecting the look of sheer panic that immediately adorns Bruce's face, and is quick to backtrack.

"Oh, hey, hey, maybe not. It's cool. Your control level is just fine where it is, promise."

Bruce's sucks in another breath before his features settle back into the meek but devastatingly attractive face that Tony adores.

"We're just gonna work out," Tony says, pointedly ignoring Bruce's near panic attack. "Rogers might practical be a scientifically enhanced super-human, but he's damn cut. Figured he could help me get in shape."

That does make Bruce smile, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"You're in great shape. Which is surprising, really, considering your love of alcohol and greasy food, and complete lack of a current exercise plan."

"I know that was a backhanded compliment," Tony says, "But I'm choosing to focus on the compliment part. Because I'm narcissistic like that."

"I'd expect nothing else," Bruce says, grinning. "Now can we go home? Mom's making quesadillas, and we should get home before she decides to cook standing on that robo-stool you made her. Again."

Tony grins and turns the key in the ignition.

"Your mom is awesome."

They're halfway to Bruce's house before Tony reaches over and grabs Bruce's hand in his own, giving it a squeeze.

"You'll tell me that story, one day, right?"

Bruce doesn't have to ask what he means, and he nods, almost imperceptibly.

"One day."

They drive on.

.

.

"I mean, really, how the hell do you do this? I'm going into cardiac arrest here, Jesus."

"No need to call me Jesus, Stark. Steve will do just fine."

"And when did you get a sense of humor, anyway? You never laughed at my jokes. Three years in middle school, and four of high school, I never heard you laugh at my jokes. Not even once."

"They weren't very funny."

"I hate you so much."

"You're only saying that because I'm making you actually exercise."

"It's a valid reason!"

Tony runs out of breath at last, and drops to the floor from where he was doing push-ups, panting into the mat.

"Hate. You" he repeats.

"Here," Steve says, handing Tony a bottle of cold water.

Tony rolls onto his back and accepts it greedily, chugging half of it down before breathing again.

"Marry me," he says, looking up at his friend's amused face.

Steve rolls his eyes and kicks Tony's leg.

"Bruce might have a problem with that. Plus, you're not my type. Now get up, I'm gonna teach you to spar."

"Spar? You didn't say anything about sparring. You can spar? Who taught you to spar?"

"Can you ever just ask one thing at a time?" Steve asks, sighing in mock-exhaustion.

Tony just raises an eyebrow as he grudgingly gets to his feet.

"I didn't say anything because I knew you'd run away," Steve says. "And yes, I can spar. Natasha and Clint taught me a bunch of stuff over the summer."

"Oh, hell no," Tony says, backing away. "I've seen Natasha and Clint fight. I don't want any part of that."

Steve just rolls his eyes again.

"I'll be gentle with you, come on. Don't chicken out now."

Tony sighs, but follows Steve to the sparring area of his expansive basement set-up.

"I'm going to regret this," he says, cringing when Steve laughs with far too much glee.

.

.

"Never again."

Bruce gives Tony a fond look, and moves to lie down next to him. They're at Tony's house for once, and Bruce never can quite get over the fact that Tony lives in an actual mansion. It's impressive, purely from an architectural and monetary perspective, but he knows Tony is counting the days until he can leave and never come back.

He leans in and nuzzles at Tony's hair, still damp from the hot shower he'd taken. Tony makes a sound somewhere between a purr and a groan, and Bruce can't help but chuckle.

"Steve go pretty hard on you?" he asks, letting as much suggestiveness drip into his voice as he can.

Tony attempts to swat at him, but loses oomph halfway there, and drops his hand back to the bed.

"So, we're joking about this now? Over the jealousy, I see."

"Definitely over it," Bruce agrees. "This is way too amusing to worry about being jealous."

"You mock my pain," Tony says, pouting.

"Life is pain, highness," Bruce quotes back at him, "Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something."

Tony grins with delight. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around! Put that in, and come cuddle me until I stop being one giant bruise."

"So demanding," Bruce says, tsk-ing his tongue. But he gets up anyway and puts the DVD into Tony's obnoxiously large TV/DVD player, before lying back down and half-pulling Tony onto his chest.

Tony's asleep before Westley even dies, but Bruce doesn't mind.

.

.

The last thing Clint expects to see when he walks into the cafeteria is Natasha laughing loudly at something Loki must have said, all while he has one arm wrapped around her shoulder. They're sitting at a table with Thor and Steve and a few cheerleaders whose names Clint doesn't know, but all he sees is Loki and his stupidly long arm, touching his girlfriend like he owns her.

He's moving before he knows what he's doing; tunnel vision tinged with red, but gets stopped short by Bruce, who uses more strength than Clint knew he had to push him into a halt.

"Relax," Bruce says, grabbing his arm and pulling him none-too gently to another table, where Tony and Maria are sitting, watching them with blatant curiosity.

They get to the table and Clint sits down against his better judgment, not bothering to greet the others.

"I told him to let you knock Loki out," Tony says, cutting to the chase. "He didn't listen."

Clint cracks a bit of a smile at that, and turns his head to look at Maria.

She shrugs. "I didn't care either way. Had ten bucks on Loki knocking you to the ground, though."

"I had ten on Natasha doing it," Tony adds. "She doesn't seem like the type who'd react well to the jealous boyfriend act."

"I just didn't want anyone to get expelled two weeks before graduation," Bruce says. "Feel free to kick his ass after the ceremony."

"Ooh, baby has some hidden depth," Tony grins, "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"And here I thought it was because of his cock-sucking lips," Clint says, nonchalantly.

"Or the awesome hair," Maria adds, reaching over and ruffling said hair.

Bruce swats at her hand while glaring at Clint and feeling suddenly entirely too aware of his lips.

"All of that," Tony says. "And he's got a great p…"

"Tony!" Bruce yelps. "Seriously."

"I was going to say personality!"

"Like hell."

"Yeah, ok, I definitely wasn't."

"Why is Tasha over there, anyway?" Clint interrupts them, glaring at the other table.

"Erin got mono," Maria explains, "Natasha was her understudy. She's our new Gertrude."

"Natasha acts?" Tony asks, "Did not see that one coming."

"She dabbles," Clint shrugs, "Not normally outside of the bedroom, though."

"Can we have one conversation that doesn't somehow end up about your sex life?" Bruce says, exasperated. "Or my sex life. Or Maria's… Actually, we never talk about Maria's sex life. What's new with you, Maria?"

Maria grins wickedly.

"Made my girlfriend squirt clear across the room last night. "

"Oh my god," Bruce sighs, dropping his head to the table with a thud, narrowly avoiding his mashed potatoes.

"Wait, you're gay?" Tony says, suddenly interested in the conversation again.

"Who is she?" Clint asks, glancing around the lunchroom for any possible matches.

Maria grins widely and ruffles Bruce's hair again, for good measure.

"Yes," she says to Tony, "and she's in college," to Clint.

"I'm going to sit with my girlfriend," Clint says, "I promise not to hit anyone. For now."

They watch him go and settle himself into the empty sit beside Natasha. She turns and smiles at him before tangling their legs together beneath the table as they catch up on the day. Clint manages a small but cordial nod to Loki, who sends him a friendly smile before tuning back into whatever story Thor and Steve are in the middle of.

.

.************************************************************************************

"What do you remember about my dad?"

Tony blinks at Bruce, thinking. They're lying on Bruce's roof, looking up at where the stars would be if the clouds weren't so thick tonight.

"Not a lot," he admits. "I mean, the accident was when you were like 12, right? You and me weren't that close until the next year."

Bruce nods, and goes silent. He's looking up, as if he can see through the blackness. Tony gets the feeling that whatever he's thinking about is much darker than the night.

"Wasn't an accident," he says, after what feels like an eternity.

Tony wants to sit up and look at Bruce more closely, but he knows he can't. If he disrupts this, he just knows Bruce will stop talking, and he can't let him do that.

Instead, he just keeps his eyes to the sky and reaches out blindly to hold Bruce's hand.

"What happened?" he asks.

Bruce squeezes his hand, hard, but explains.

"My father, he… he wasn't a good guy. I can't remember a time when he wasn't yelling at my mom. Or hitting her. Usually both. He was crazy smart, but the crazy outweighed the smart by a ton. I swear, I don't think I ever saw the man smile. And nothing we did was good enough for him."

Tony knows better than to talk yet, and just holds on to Bruce's hand. Waiting.

"For a long time, my mom tried to keep it from me," he continues. "She really tried. She'd cover all her bruises, and try not to set him off when I was around. But it didn't matter."

"_Baby,_" Tony says, unable to stop himself. He just wants to kiss Bruce until he can't think about anything else.

"I was eleven when he first hit me," Bruce says, sounding oddly calm. "I came home and he had her against the wall, with his hand around her throat. She was going white, and I just ran to her, I wasn't even thinking. I shoved him, tried to get in front of her. But he just slammed me into the wall next to her and threw me onto the floor. She passed out eventually, and he just left us there on the floor."

Tony can't help it; he turns over and unlinks their hands, before curling himself into Bruce, resting his head on his shoulder. Bruce nuzzles into him for just a moment, before finishing his story.

"That went on for almost a year," he says. "She tried her best to keep me out of it, but once he got it into his head, it was like he couldn't stop. I was his new favorite punching bag. And one night, I think mom just snapped. He was tossing me around, telling me how I'd never be anything but a no-good loser, and she came in, and I yelled for her to leave. I didn't want her to get hurt anymore. And she just starts crying, harder than I'd ever seen her cry. And he, I guess he thought it was funny, because he starts laughing, and he tosses me to the side and starts going for her, ya know? But she runs. She runs right to their bedroom and grabs his gun from the drawer, because of course he has a gun, and she tells him to get out and to never come back, or she's going to shoot him dead."

"Jesus," Tony says, holding on to Bruce even tighter.

"He didn't listen," Bruce continues, "He just laughed at her again, told her she'd never have the balls to shoot him. She'd never be anything without him. Told her she couldn't even give him a real son, what good was she? And I guess he went to hit her again, I couldn't see, but the next thing I know, the gun goes off, and there's this thud. And I'm terrified that it's her, and that he's going to kill me next, but I go anyway, I run up the stairs, and she's there. Crying and shaking and still holding the gun, but alive. The cops said he was dead before he even hit the carpet."

"He deserved it," Tony says, choked up even thinking about.

"He deserved worse," Bruce says. "I hope there's a hell, just so he can burn in it."

Tony nods, and they lie in silence for a while, just holding on to each other.

"That's why you're afraid to lose control," Tony says. It's not a question, but Bruce answers anyway.

"Yeah," he says, because there's too much to say and not enough words in the world to explain how he feels.

"You will NEVER be your father," Tony says, looking at Bruce more seriously than he ever has. Because this is real, and important, and he needs Bruce to understand.

"I could be," Bruce says, quietly. "I get so angry sometimes, and I could just snap. I could hurt someone. My mother. You. I never want to hurt you."

"People hurt each other," Tony says, "We're human, it's what we do. Your father wasn't human. Not a good one, anyway. He was seriously fucked up. You could never be even a fraction of the monster he was. And you're already ten times the man he ever was."

Bruce's laugh turns into a sob, tears welling up against his will and falling before he can stop them.

"You can't know that," he says, "I could end up just like him."

"I won't let you," Tony says, as if it's that simple.

"I love you," Bruce says, because he does, and he needs to say it.

"Obviously," Tony says, giving him an exaggerated eyebrow wriggle, "what's not to love?"

Bruce laughs again, shifting them so he can kiss Tony. He feels lighter than he has in years.

"I've loved you for years," Tony says, softly. "Just never thought you could love a fuck-up like me back."

"It's entirely possible that we're both idiots," Bruce says, smiling.

"Impossible," Tony says, "We both have genius I.Q.s."

"Genius idiots," Bruce says, "that can be our tagline."

"It does have a certain ring to it," Tony muses.

The too-full clouds above them finally explode and the rain falls hard and fast, soaking them before they can scramble back indoors.

They take a long shower and drink hot chocolate, and fall asleep, naked and sated, curled around each other, grateful Bruce's mother is out of town.

.

.

Natasha's death is glorious, Tony has to admit. The girl can act. It's strange to see her in the costume dress, instead of her usual jeans and leather, but she pulls it off. Clint's in the front row, watching with a mix of awe and trepidation. Bruce finds it adorable, and he tells Tony so.

"Sap," Tony says, but he's smiling.

They settle back to watch the rest of the play.

.

In the final scenes, there's a murmur throughout the crowd, and Bruce and Tony look up from their making out to see Loki advancing on Thor with a menacing look on his face.

"He's intense," Tony says. "I mean, I know Hamlet kills Claudius and all, but that's a little terrifying."

Bruce doesn't answer right away, focusing intently on the stage, brow furrowed.

"He's supposed to have stabbed him by now," he says, "And made him drink the poison."

"Dramatic pause for effect?" Tony suggests, growing inexplicably uneasy.

The audience is enthralled, watching as Loki crowds Thor against the prop wall, one hand over his shoulder and pressed against the wall, the other moving to cup Thor's face and hold it still.

Thor, clearly confused, tries to maintain character but can't help but give Loki a questioning look.

"You never deserved it," Loki says, so low that his mic barely picks it up. Luckily, the auditorium is hushed silent.

"I…Hamlet.." Thor stutters, "That's not in the script," he whispers to Loki.

Loki just grins, and it'd be beautiful if it wasn't suddenly so sinister.

And that's when they hear the click of a gun.

The crowd murmurs as one, not sure what's real and not at this point. They learn a moment later as Loki half turns to point the gun at the audience, his other hand holding a small dagger to Thor's throat.

"If anyone moves, I'll cut his throat," he informs the audience, calmly.

"Loki…" Thor tries, but is quickly silence by Loki aiming the gun to the middle of the crowd.

"It's dark out there, _brother_," he says, spitting the word. "Another word and I'll shoot at random. There's no saying who I could hit."

Thor's eyes go wide but he stays quiet.

"That's better," Loki says. "I want them to watch this."

"Please," Thor whispers, hoping Loki will focus on him and not the gun in his hand.

It works, but suddenly Thor has a gun to his temple along with the knife to his throat.

Tony and Bruce see Clint start to move, no doubt fearing for Natasha, who is still lying on the stage floor. Before he can even stand up, Loki is pointing the gun at him, warning him not to be a hero.

"This is between Thor and me," he says.

"Then why the audience?" Thor asks, "You don't need them. Let me help you, brother."

"I am not your brother!" Loki screams, steely calm finally showing signs of cracking.

Before Thor can argue, Coulson appears on the stage from somewhere in the wings, inching closer.

"Put the gun down, Loki. I promise you that we can give you whatever you need. Nobody has to get hurt."

"What I want is Thor on his knees, begging me to spare his life," Loki says, without looking at Coulson.

"Brother…" Loki tries again, imploring Loki with his eyes.

"We were never brothers," Loki says. "On your knees."

Thor does as he's told, kneeling down with the gun and knife still pointed at him. Loki drops the knife and grabs Thor by the hair and tilts his head up violently.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you," he says, voice cracking slightly.

"We're family," Thor says, "And I love you."

"LIAR!" Loki shouts, pressing the gun into Thor's temple with enough force to begin to bruise immediately.

Coulson almost reaches him, but he turns in the last second and fires the gun, watching Coulson go down with no emotion on his face.

Screams come from the audience, but nobody moves; for fear that he'll start shooting at random like he'd promised.

Steve watches the scene unfold from behind the curtain, trying to figure out the right moment to tackle Loki without getting Thor or anyone else killed. The police are on their way, but he fears they won't be soon enough.

"Why do you doubt my love?" Thor asks, and he somehow looks more hurt than afraid in the moment.

"Did you even notice I was gone?" Loki asks, "When they sent me away. Did you wonder why? Did you miss me at all?"

"I cried for you!" Thor says, "You were my best friend. And you're still my brother. It doesn't matter what our blood says!"

"I did love you," Loki says, quietly, before confusing everyone by getting to his own knees to face Thor, keeping the gun pointed at Thor's head.

"What happened?" Thor asks, daring to reach up and put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"They sent me away," Loki says, snarling. "They saw how much I loved you, and they sent me away. Couldn't let me tarnish their precious golden child."

"That can't be true," Thor says, disbelief clear on his face. "There must have been some other reason. Why would they send you away simply for loving…oh," he trails off, as he realizes exactly what Loki is saying.

"Oh, Loki," he whispers, "I'm so sorry."

"As am I," Loki says, as his thumb cocks the gun again.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to Thor's mouth, letting go of his hair to cradle his face, almost gently.

Thor just stares at him once he pulls away, his face a myriad of emotions, the strongest of which is sadness.

"Goodbye, brother," Loki says, and the whole room gasps as he pushes Thor away and moves the gun to his own heart.

"No!" Thor shouts, surging up and shoving Loki's arm just as the shot goes off.

It still hits, and Loki crumbles to the stage floor, blood soaking the white arm of his tunic red.

The police sirens finally get close enough to hear, and everything is a blur after that.

.

.

"I can't believe we're actually here," Bruce says, looking up at the outdoor stage with amazement.

"Graduation," Tony agrees, "How about that."

He takes a minute to nod to Mr. Coulson, whose arm is still in a sling, but is otherwise healing nicely. Coulson nods back, expression unreadable behind his dark sunglasses.

Steve is standing with Clint and Natasha, looking a little lost without his best friend beside him.

"How's Thor doing?" Tony asks.

"I talked to his mom yesterday," Bruce replies. "She says he's ok, but didn't want to deal with the crowd today. Loki's better, though."

Tony snorts, which earns him a smack to his leg.

"Physically, I mean," Bruce says. "He's going to need years of therapy."

"Betting it won't be hard to plead insanity," Tony says, "Because, yeah, wow, in-fucking-sane. And in love with his brother on top of it. That'll fuck you up for sure."

"I'm just glad nobody got killed," Bruce says, "I could go the rest of my life without seeing another gun."

Tony takes the moment to grab Bruce's hand and squeeze it tightly.

"How do you feel about lasers?" he asks, breaking the serious moment.

Bruce laughs.

"Lasers are ok."

Tony's reply is interrupted by Principal Fury telling everybody to 'get to their motherfucking seats!'

"Can he swear on school property?" Bruce asks, mildly scandalized.

"Are you going to stop him?" Tony laughs, "The man lost an eye to a rabid badger attack. I don't think he'll have a problem with a few disgruntled parents."

Bruce shakes his head. "I'm like… 600% sure that's not what happened."

"Maybe it was a snake," Tony allows, "But it was definitely rabid."

"You're crazy," Bruce says, as they head toward the seats. They're several rows apart, alphabetically, so they linger in the aisle.

"But you love me," Tony replies, grinning.

"It's true," Bruce says, voice going soft despite his best efforts.

"Good," Tony says, "Because you're stuck with me now. For at least the next four years. Or however long it takes to get a PHD."

Bruce's whole face lights up as realization hits him.

"You're going to college? With me?"

"Where else?" Tony says, as if it's the dumbest question he's ever heard. "Our apartment is going to _rock._"

"Crazy," Bruce repeats, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face if he tried.

"Only for you," Tony says, somehow making the overly sappy comment seem genuine and sweet.

"Do you boys have a hearing problem?" Fury yells out from across the way, "Get in your goddamn seats!"

"See you in a while," Bruce says, kissing Tony quickly before shoving him toward the direction of his seat.

Tony goes, flipping off Fury on the way. Fury just rolls his eye and ignores him.

.

By the time they reach the end of the alphabet, Bruce is bored out of his mind. He clutches his diploma, waiting for it really to set in, but he really doesn't remember there being so many people in his class. He perks back up when they finally hit the S names and grins when he sees Tony next in line.

In retrospect, he supposes he should have expected Tony to drop his robe and streak naked across the stage, grabbing his diploma as he goes. Somehow though, he's still surprised, and he finds himself hooting and laughing along with the rest of the class.

"So, SO crazy," he says, to nobody in particular.

He tilts his head back to look up the sky, and the sun burns his eyes, but it's alright. In fact, for the first time in a very long time, everything is alright.

They have the rest of their lives to figure out the rest of their lives, and Bruce can't wait.

.

THE END.


End file.
